Tight “T”s and short skirts,
make-up the despair of “Woman’s Day”,
they try to claw their way
out of public housing
by their gel tipped talons,
while teetering on 6 inch heels.
Each day ends as it starts
with running for the train …
lucky girl who has a job
far from this multicultural cesspit
and can forget for eight short hours.
So what’s the future? Motherhood and /or
marriage to the bloke next door?
Old before their time and sick of scrimping
they sink before they learn to swim.
We had a Prime Minister…Paul whats’is name
who had his roots in Blacktown – but he moved.